


Validation

by ValmureEld



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Anatomy, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Female/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValmureEld/pseuds/ValmureEld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abbie has a horrible thought after their encounter with the Sandman, Ichabod finds her concern amusing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Validation

**Author's Note:**

> My first story up here! Woo-hoo!

“I'm sorry, I'm too tired to lie.” 

Abbie laughed at that, watching Ichabod slump in the chair, a smile lighting his face even though he'd covered his eyes with a hand. 

“Stay as long as you like.” She said, getting up and smoothing her hands on her jeans. She thought she was going to leave, but a dark thought crossed her mind and she slowly sat down in the chair next to the one Ichabod was occupying. He had uncovered his eyes and was still smiling, tired though he looked, and he gave Abbie a curious glance. 

“Are you not going to go resolve things with your sister?” He asked. 

“No, I am.” She said, looking at her fingers and then at him. She glanced down at the hand resting in his lap. She hesitated. 

“What is it?” He sat up a little straighter and his brow creased as he searched her for clues.

“Give me your hand.” 

Ichabod just stared at her. “My hand?”

“Yes, the one sitting in your lap, give it.” She nodded to his left hand, gesturing as she did so, her own dark fingers extended in an expectation to grasp his light ones. 

The perplexed look remained, but he lifted his left hand and lay it trustingly in Abbie's. 

Abbie closed her fingers around it and turned it over in her hands, tracing long, delicate tendons as she did so. Her touch was incredibly gentle, the skimming of flesh on flesh relaxing, if still confusing. 

He moved his fingers just slightly and Abbie felt the carefully strung muscles flex with the action, the tendons slipping noiseless beneath his skin. She worked her hands up to his wrist, pressing gently as though checking for a break or imperfection. Her fingers slid over elegantly sculpted bone and then, a little higher, passed over soft, warm tunnels of living blood that throbbed gently. She brushed his sleeve aside and firmly stroked the muscles in his forearm. They gave way to her ministration with a woven elasticity, the skin a soft adornment over the careful intricacy. 

“Miss Mills, are you all right?” Ichabod asked after several focused moments of silence. “I am afraid I do not understand your purpose.” 

Abbie suddenly let go of his arm, shaking herself and tugging his sleeve back to where it had been. She blamed the weird tea. “Yes, sorry. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.” 

He cocked his head. “I do not understand your meaning.” 

“It's nothing. Just a thought that occurred to me.” Abbie brushed it aside, getting up. “Get some sleep, you deserve it. Just no weird tea this time.” 

Ichabod looked at his hand, then back at Mills. “This was the hand the demon removed.” 

Abbie nodded curtly. “Yep. And clearly it's in working order, so I'm going to go fix things with Jenny.” 

“You thought that if we could die in the dream, that the injuries may carry over as well.” Ichabod said, ignoring her dismissal. 

Abbie nodded, taking in a deep breath through her nose. “And I was wrong. Which is good.” She turned to leave. 

“I appreciate your concern.” Ichabod said. Abbie couldn't quite tell if he was teasing her or not, so she turned around to look at him. He had a soft smile on his lips but the statement had been genuine. “Get some rest, Lieutenant.”

“Don't worry, I will.” Abbie walked away, giving him a quick wave as she went. 

Ichabod lifted his left hand in return.


End file.
